De Anima
by Thetis of White Isle
Summary: The seven were taken from their worlds and sealed away as figurines. Only Ferris had the strength of heart to eventually escape, and now she has to find a way back to her own world. A retelling of the rpg, Mystic Ark.


This is a novelization of a little-known rpg for the SNES called Mystic Ark. The game is copyright by Enix, and while I have made some significant changes and digressions, I do not take credit for the original skeleton of the story. For those of you who want to know more about Mystic Ark, and see more of this fanfic, visit my LJ via my profile.

Also, because this is a novelization, you _do not have to have played the game to understand the story_. Period. You can just step into this like one big ole fantasy novel. (And judging from the number of worlds we have to visit, this could take me a while.) So sit back, and enjoy the show, and don't mind the occasional mystery or three; all will be explained in due time.

Plus: because of FF .net's ludicrous chaptering system, you get the prologue and the first chapter in one fell swoop. Ain't it grand?

* * *

0. Prologue

That night, there was a camp out at the galley Gunboss, the black ship popping out from the backdrop of the stream of stars in the night sky. There was cheerful talk and laughter, surrounded by dancing forms by the fire, long, distorted, and shadowy. Someone was playing a cheerful ditty on a recorder, while a bucket from swabbing the deck was being used as an impromptu drum. The whole crew of Gunboss, privateers to non-combatants to ranking members, over a hundred twenty cats strong, were celebrating that the new shipment of goods had arrived from the outer seas. The smell of fresh roasting pork and pineapples on a spit filled the air.

The fire had been built by cutting up some of the rotting wood of the galley, half-chewed planks thanks to the rats, and some worn sails that the boatswain deemed unfit to be reused after inspection. It was nearing the end of the dry season, the sun setting to a red sky. "Sailor's delight, my tail," muttered Musil, grumpily mashing aloe vera and echinacea with his pestil, the sound of wood against wood scratching against one another. The noise made him want to claw his nails against a scratching post.

"But it's such a cute tail!" rejoined a cheery voice from behind him, and he nearly leapt out of his skin when he felt a furry paw tug on his long tail. His triangular ears flattened in annoyance, and he batted at the person behind his back with said tail.

"Knock it off, Giovanna," he said. "I'm jumpy enough as it is, even if we are in a stalemate."

The gray-furred cat, her short fur slightly ruffled, plunked down next to Musil on the dune, the color of the sands washed out by the blaze of the large fire. "What are you so peeved about?"

Musil shrugged. "It's already damn hot as it is. As if we need it to get even _hotter _tomorrow." She arched a whisker. "It's not like you to let yourself get your panties in a twist over some hot weather. We are in the middle of a desert, for crying out loud." She crossed her arms, watching as he peeled some ginger, her pink nose wrinkling at the scent. "Pinkhead's grumpy too."

"What happened?" asked Musil.

"Couldn't get it out of him, you know how private the jerk is." said Giovanna. Unfortunately for Musil, she seemed to be more persistent with him. "What's really eating you?"

Giovanna had been his friend for long time, and seemed to know Musil better than he knew himself. Setting aside the mortar and pistil, he dropped his hands in his lap, staring up at the twinkling stars. He heard the laughter of children playing a game of tag, and the clink of dice on a buckler. "Giovanna, even though the shipment for this season has arrived...they didn't bring any aloe vera. We usually supply it ourselves from the desert, but this dry season has been unusually bad, and there's not enough to go around."

Her yellow eyes rounded, slitted pupils shrinking. "You mean to tell me that—"

Grimly, Musil was about to answer, when a pack of giggling young kittens stumbled past, their plates loaded up with kabobs of the wild boar, along with a tropical fruit salad. They gathered around the fire, dropping on the black sails used as picnic cloth.

Giovanna shook her head at the sight, saying, "I still think that we should have evacuated the elderly, infirm, and the children to the northern hills."

Glad for the distraction, Musil pointed out, "The galley is the safest place for them. This way, Bloodhook won't be able to use them as hostages against us."

"Still, they could get injured being so close to the battlefield," she grumbled.

By the large fire, the elderly Roberto, his dark stripes black, prodded the dying embers with a board. He called to the young kittens, "Children, I have a story to tell." Immediately, Musil and Giovanna fell silent, as did the rest of the members of the Gunboss, the loud chatter dropping to muted murmurs.

One young cat, his blue tail swishing in delight, eagerly said, "Is this the one about the goddess?"

Roberto nodded, long fur by his furry chin bobbing. "Yes, the creator of our worlds. This tale has been told throughout the generations." Clearing his throat, the last of the murmurs died away, and he began his tale:

"Long, long ago, in a vast ocean, an island appeared out of nothingness.

"There were no mists parting, nor volcanos spewing ash out of their mouths, or even the waters churning. The weather was tumultuous however, with lightning striking once, then twice. One moment there were mere waves, made pale sea green from the lack of sun, and a slight wind, then an archipelago of small islands came into existence.

"It was much the same with the white marble steps; they were not there one moment, and then they were the next.

"One by one, the colorless stones appeared, until they led up to a staircase, Doric columns formed out of the high verdant grass, and a glowing white shrine materialized, its tall blue doors opening, as if beckoning one to enter.

"From the vantage point of this nexus, the Temple, the creator sought to begin her universe, a bit different than the average, run-of-the-mill kind. (That is, if there was ever such a thing.) Her creation was newly-fashioned, finely wrought and meticulously crafted, a marvel to watch. Yet everything was frozen, as time had not been wound in this existence yet. The creator was still crafting out the histories of each individual that dwelt among the multitude of worlds, the web of possibilities that would immediately begin to weave and spin and expand the moment she released this universe into the void.

"When the creator was done with those details, she set upon herself to move onto her finest masterpiece yet: the reason she had built the universe in the first place. The creator labored hard now, and it began to take shape as she formed it with the elements that she knew: power for strength, the dual nature of darkness and light, fire and water to balance each other, wisdom for intellect, and wood to provide growth. Humming with delight, she began to weave the creature's form with those elements, and at last, she had completed the small, lithe form, and with tenderness she brushed a lock of hair off the creation's pale forehead.

"Then a tiny crease formed between her brow when her universe began to move on its own. Alarmed, she reached out towards her masterpiece, only to discover that the creator was being drawn away, and with mounting horror on her benevolent features, her form was sealed away. Darkness strengthened, gained a foothold upon her universe, descending upon her work, claiming those that would stand in its way."

* * *

In despair, the goddess watched, as one by one, those that could stand to the Darkness were subdued and whisked away to join her in her prison. Seven altars appeared in the inner sanctum of the Temple that she had crafted, dreadful harbingers to what was to come. Down it swooped onto the various worlds, seeking out the fated seven.

* * *

"One Spanish coffee, please," said Miriene at the brightly-lit bar. It was a cheery little room, the player piano tinkling in the background, playing a familiar rag that she couldn't quite put the name to.

The bartender grinned at her through his bushy mustache, "I've got a job opening here if you still want it, honey. You're a regular here, and I think the custom would love you."

"Uh-huh," she replied, unconvinced. She was a tall woman with her brown hair in a cute bob, sleek body in a hunter green top and skirt that exposed her well-formed mid-section. Miriene eyed the back corner of the bar suspiciously, where she could just _feel_ a sloshed man at a table making eyes at her. It was causing the roots of her hair to go up. "I think they would enjoy it a little _too _much. Besides, I'm a witch for hire. I kill things for a living; I'd find it boring."

"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying," said the bartender. He passed her the Spanish coffee, with a dollop of whipped cream on top, just the way he knew she liked it. However, the extra effort was ruined when he pointed out, "You don't necessarily have to work in those skimpy clothes."

Miriene's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong with a woman showing off her assets?"

Before the bartender could reply, his eyes widened in shock at something he spotted behind her. "What the hell is _that_?"

Miriene turned her head, only to see...what could only be described as a large flat diamond spinning in mid-air, large enough that a human could flatten himself against it, and have room to spare. "What the—" she began, and took a step closer to get a better look.

It was the wrong move. The diamond came frighteningly close to Miriene, while onlookers gasped in shock. The young witch backed up, but the bar pressed up to her bare mid-back, and the diamond approached, while spinning faster.

"What's it trying to do?" demanded the bartender.

"I don't know!" cried Miriene, as she edged away towards the player piano, still blaring its upbeat melody. It made the dangerous situation absurdly comical.

The bartender took a step forward, but fear kept him from going further. Instead, he frantically waved at her to get behind the bar...and then...he didn't know what to do from there.

Miriene turned to look at him, terror in her brown eyes, but the split second she paused, the diamond swallowed her up, and she disappeared, the square shattering into four pieces and vanishing. Much to the bartender's shock, all that was left behind was a small wooden figurine, and before he could move, it too vanished.

On the first altar in the inner sanctum, the figurine of Miriene appeared.

* * *

It was a beautiful windy day in the village where Reeshine lived. The sun was lowering into the horizon, leaving the chalk white windmills colored in the hues of the sunset. The shadows that the people milling outside had were long and distorted, like skinny giants. The grappler, with her dark hair in a high braid and dressed in a purple gi, approached the Elder of the village, who stood in front of the temple, leaning on his cane.

"Elder, you wished to speak with me?" she asked, stepping through the dust-covered grass.

The old man nodded at her, his brow furrowed with concern. "There is this...strange...object that has shown up in the village. It is moving, but of its own force, not from the wind."

Reeshine lifted a brow. "That is strange."

"Could you have a look at it, see if it is a threat? Our village has always been peaceful. Perhaps it is an omen...I do hope not..." the Elder trailed off, mumbling.

The grappler ran down the steps, over to where her brother and her father were, near the object, a large, flat diamond. "What do you suppose it is?" Habb, her brother, his hair blond and out of control. She affectionately ruffled his hair, which he batted her hand away at. "Reeshine," he complained, "I'm almost nine. Stop treating me like a kid."

Before she could retort that he _was _a kid, the diamond approached them, and Reeshine immediately leapt in front of the emerging threat in a defensive stance, and before she could react, the diamond swept in and transformed her into a figurine.

"Reeshine!" Habb tried to catch the figurine, but it evaded his grasp.

* * *

On the second altar, the figurine of Reeshine appeared.

* * *

Starting Lux bot. Online.

Main system malfunction from lack of power, repair immediately.

Unable to complete repair. Need additional bots to complete data repair.

Rux, Sux, and Tux bots online. System repairs beginning.

System requires power source. Power source is failing.

Intruder alert! Intruder alert! Foreign substance found within system!

Tux bot spots intruder.

Approaching Lux bot...approaching. Warning! Warning! Lux bot contaminated. Lux bot offline. Lux bot absent from known location...checking other locations.

Rux, Sux and Tux bots being drained of power! Rux, Sux, and Tux bots offline.

Main system failed to start. Shutting down.

* * *

On the third altar, the figurine of Lux appeared.

* * *

Deep in the forest in a pasture, a lone shepherd was tending his flock of...blue lions.

Kamiwoo, his red hair alight in the bright sunlight, and green skin glistening in sweat, patiently herded the animals through some coniferous trees. There were five of the magnificent beasts, but in the ogre's humble opinion, they were gentle as lambs, despite their fearsome looks, lest one attacked their master.

His sharp hearing caught the sound of one of the lions as it wandered off from the rest, and he pushed the rest along, as he went to catch the stray, quickly stopping her from meandering into a thistle patch, and sent it off to follow the rest. Kamiwoo smiled in relief, wiping his forehead of a few droplets in the warm sun.

Then he heard another noise within the many trees, and frowning, as he watched the last lion cast him one worrying glance, he took out his ax, prepared to defend his charges.

The diamond came so fast that Kamiwoo only had time to back up a token step before it claimed him, leaving behind the stray lion, the lone witness, to wonder what had happened to her master.

* * *

On the fourth altar, the figurine of Kamiwoo appeared.

* * *

The priestess Meisia smiled as children ran past her, their little footsteps pattering against the cobblestone streets. She stood by the edge of the shadows of the two-story residential buildings, their windows framed with intricate wood carvings. Pots of sage decorated the front of the building, leaving a piney aroma that Meisia loved. She was a slender blonde, with pleasant features, dressed in the white robes of her station.

Cynthia, one of the children, pigtails bouncing, shouted gleefully, "Let's play a game!"

Apricot cried, "Let's play hide and seek!"

"Yeah!" came from one of the others, as resounding noises of agreement came from the group.

Meisia smiled again, amused. "I hope you don't choose to hide in someplace where no one can find you, Ray. Then we'd have to leave you behind."

"Hey!" pouted the boy, a frown marring his smooth face.

She giggled, "Ray, frowns don't suit you."

Cynthia looked over her shoulder and asked, "Meisia, what's that over there? I've never seen anything like it!"

Meisia turned to look, and she felt a shiver of apprehension when she saw a strange diamond spinning towards her. "Kids, get behind me!" she ordered.

"But—"

"Please, don't ask questions!" She jumped in front of them, pushing the objecting children behind her, as the strange object drew close, closer, then...

* * *

On the fifth altar, the figurine of Meisia appeared.

* * *

Tokio quickly dodged the approaching enemy from the plateau he was standing on, his violet hair standing on end. Behind the mask he always wore, he wore an expression of exhaustion. The ninja had been trying to dodge this...what only could be described as a flat square for a while now. He often came to these training grounds to practice his ninjitsu, but even though he had to quickly leap off the plateau when it had initially approached him, unlike him, the diamond did not seem to tire.

He eschewed fancy moves, drained now, and used the old stand-by of running like hell.

Unfortunately, as he was scanning for weaknesses with a quick swivel of his head, Tokio inadvertently slowed his pace, and the diamond caught up with him.

* * *

On the sixth altar, the figurine of Tokio appeared.

* * *

She was running and running, fleeing from some unknown, unseen enemy. Though she could not see, hear, or smell it, she could _feel _it chasing her in the darkness of a stone cave. She did not stop to wait to see who it was, fear overriding all her senses. From what she could sense, it was a tremendous force of hatred and malice licking at her heels, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She exited a long corridor to an open space in the cave, where it was better-lit, and she came across multiple corridors, and confused, she backed up, and took a moment to breathe.

Then she finally got a glimpse of her opponent, something so bizarre, so unexpected that she froze. She turned right around, and ran in the other direction. Right into a wall.

* * *

On the seventh altar, the last figurine appeared. The flames in the torches flickered briefly, then stilled.

* * *

"From her vantage point, the creator could only sit and wait," Roberto concluded slowly, all luminous eyes rapt upon his face, "her divided countenance in despair, waiting and hoping for the future day, when all would be set to rights. For now, she calls out, in bleak solitude, in hopes that one day, someone will hear, someone will answer, and set her free, defeating the Darkness and restoring the balance."

After several moments of impatient silence, Grace, the captain's daughter, blinked up at him with curious eyes. "Roberto?"

"Yes, dear?" he answered affectionately.

"Was that the end of the story?"

Roberto shook his head. "Of course not, Gracie. This story's end, well..." the elderly cat smiled enigmatically, "remains to be seen."

Musil and Giovanna watched as Roberto ended his tale, and Giovanna let out a low whistle. "That's hardly bedtime story material. I wonder why Roberto told that story tonight; while interesting, it doesn't resolve anything."

Musil snorted drily, picking up his pestil, the end of it still covered in aloe vera. "It's just a fairy tale, Giovanna." Despite what Musil was saying, she noticed that he had stopped vigorously pounding the ginger while the yarn unfolded. "While a great deal of fun for campfire stories, they're still a bunch of legends that never had the sense to die. Roberto usually inserts an object lesson in there for us though."

"You're just too obtuse to see it," grinned Giovanna. "They always say that the most deeply-rooted legends have elements in truth."

Musil grimaced, his scars standing out in relief. "And did you spot the lesson, or did the moral sail over your head as usual?" He laughed as she punched him in the arm lightly, and he put aside his mortar and pistil.

Giovanna's gray fur ruffled, she shrugged, watching Roberto being helped up by that young orange cat, Grace, off the ground. Then Giovanna remembered what Musil had mentioned about the potion ingredients and turned to question him further.

But Musil had already picked up his mortar and gone over to speak with Captain Cribut de Chavez. She frowned, her gray tail thumping against the sand nervously.

A potion shortage. It'd best she not say anything. If Bloodhook found out...

* * *

Book I. World of Sand

1. Stranger in a Strange Land

It indeed proved hot the next day, much hotter than usual. Alvilda, the sergeant of their fireteam, led them through desert as they patrolled the perimeter of the Bloodhook's territory, Benito and Bragg trailing after her, and William bringing up the rear. It was painstakingly slow work and boring too, with the stalemate between the warring feline pirate clans. They were the proud Brigantine Bloodhook, the dark red ship half-buried in sand on one side of a long steep cliff, and on the other side, their hated rivals, the Galley Gunboss, a shadowy black ship.

Bragg had joined the Bloodhook army just a week ago, shortly after he arrived in this waterless desert island by boat, the scent of gunpowder strong in the air. The moment the cat had approached the red ship, his pale pink fur marking him as an outsider, General Sixpack and his platoon had swept him in, so desperate they were for soldiers. When Bragg tried to raise an objection to the forced recruitment, they threatened to arrest him, and more than implied physical violence would follow. It seemed this Captain Alonso was a bit of a dictator, though supposedly enlightened because he had outlawed hanging.

It seemed he could not escape his fate. Bragg thought it an odd sense of poetic justice that he had ran away from one war-torn land in exchange for more of the same. He had wanted a peaceful job, shipping goods on the high seas, but unable to find work for a draft dodger, he had ran out of money while sailing to this island.

Despite the rather abrupt recruitment, the members of the Bloodhook, all told, about a hundred or so troops, were not such bad company, or the cats he had seen while ambling about. Mostly he knew about the people in his unit—Benito and William, who had shown him the ropes. Benito was something of a goofball, while William was silent most of the time, not speaking more than necessary, but with a dry sense of humor. Alvilda, the highest-ranking member of their unit, was one more difficult to peg. When Bragg had asked what happened to the former member of the fireteam, he received the simple answer in a brusque tone of voice. "KIA."

Benito, ever her defender, simply said, "She's seen many of her friends get injured or die in this war. Don't take it personally."

Sergeant Alvilda had by the far the most seniority out of many others of the same rank, having fought for ten years. William was her second-in-command, a specialist with about three years of experience. The war had been going on for much longer than before Alvilda had joined so many years ago, though no one knew how long exactly.

The afternoon sun beat down at their backs, while the occasional sirocco would blast them with sand. "I freaking hate guard duty," muttered Benito, kicking at an innocent rock lying on the barren ground, as they marched along the edge of a sand dune, the dry wind forming patterns in the golden sand. "Can you believe that they would have us stay out here in these conditions? I think I'm out of water too and I've got sand in places I didn't know I had. And my fur is just _drenched_." He groaned, wiping sweat droplets off his forehead, and Alvilda threw him an annoyed look when some of them hit made damp spots on her vest. "Can we go back already?"

Bragg swallowed a sigh, his throat parched from the noonday sun, and he carefully took a sip from his canteen. The cat wanted to say something, anything, maybe even pick a fight to pass the time, but he knew that would just leave them both irritated and in an even more uncomfortable state than before. A hot sirocco wafted up from the yellow sands and blew in their eyes, leaving them coughing. Alvilda, on the other hand, had no such qualms about pissing her fellow mates off. "What's a matter, Benny? Your delicate constitution can't take being out in this heat?" she sneered.

"Just sayin'."

She snorted, taking a drag from her cigar. "I wanna know how you got into the Bloodhook short of you tossing a few kickbacks Sixpack's way." She laughed sardonically. "Oh, I forgot, you only got in because we needed everyone we could get."

'Benny's' long gray tail twitched and got frazzled. Not bothering to turn around, Benito growled through clenched teeth, "I swear, can't a guy complain a little? Even that crazy witch Matoya would be more tolerable company than _you_."

"We're in a bloody _war_, Benito. Get used to the bare essentials. Why don't you shave _off_ your fur if you're that hot?" snapped Alvilda. Apparently, the heat was making everyone short-tempered.

"Ugh!" said the gray-furred cat. his whiskers twitching. "Please, Alvilda, I know _you_ want to see me naked, but what about everyone else?"

"You wish. I'd go blind at first glance."

"Who are you to talk, you old battle-axe? Literally," Benito growled.

Bragg cut in before Alvilda could retort. "C'mon, guys. I hate it when you two bicker. Captain Alonso really needs intelligence on the Gunboss."

Alvilda, the veteran of the group, scanned the sands with lidded eyes. "The majority of war is the waiting game, kiddos. Just you wait until we get into a _real _battle." Her striped face twisted into a smile that did not reach her eyes. "You guys are so green you're likely to run back to Mommy with your tails between your legs."

"Hey, I've been in a battle or three," muttered Benito, "Okay, maybe two..."

Bragg bit the inside of his cheek to resist cracking a smile, and opted to sigh. "You two bicker like a couple of old marrieds." At Benito's blush, and Alvilda's whisker flickering, he knew he had hit a sore point. When they both fell silent, he decided another topic was in order. Thinking about the seemingly endless war they were in, he asked, "What is this war we're fighting over about anyway? Territory?" he began to worry at his lip, wondering how it would go over with the troops he was with, especially Alvilda. "Or water?" The curious stares he received from the others fed his curiosity. "Something else?"

"Don't let Captain Alonso hear you talk like that, or he'll throw you in the brig," warned William quietly. "To show the slightest dissension is taken as a sign of mutiny."

Bragg shrugged, falling silent, fearful at the m-word. Oh well, he thought.

The patrol resumed for another two hours, until they were about to turn in for the day, when Benito stopped them just as they were coming within view of the Bloodhook ship, the red of the sails looking like drying blood in the sun.

Benito looked towards the horizon, blocking his eyes from the strong rays. "There're a lot of crows out today, aren't there?"

"A lot of crows over there in particular." Bragg glanced over to where Benito was gazing at, trying to see past the glare, a shadowed lump of some sort on the sand dune.

"Eh, they're probably just eating some unfortunate carrion out there." Alvilda began to pick at her claws.

Bragg's eyes widened, and he took a few steps towards where the crows were gathering. "Guys...is that lump..._moving_?"

Alvilda, surprised, dropped her battle-axe with a thump and stared for a few moments. "Holy Goddess, I think you're right! How did anything _survive _in this heat?"

Then Oliver, a dark shadow against the white sand, ran up, his tail rippling behind him, followed by his fireteam, three other cats that Bragg did not know the names of. "Hey, I'm here to relieve you guys. Anything to report?"

Benito, awed, pointed, and Oliver squinted across the yards of sand to where the crows were swooping down and pecking at something...something which was squirming still.

"Could be some mouse that's getting eaten," spoke up William.

Alvilda shook her head, picking up her battle-axe, "Too big."

"Could be someone," Benito said tentatively.

The tabby's lips thinned. "What are the chances that someone survived? Something smells fishy here."

Bragg's jaw dropped. "Why are we even having this discussion? You're so callous!" Alvilda shrugged, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "I'm not about to leave someone to die in the desert just because I have an overly suspicious mind!"

"The captain wouldn't like it," she retorted. "Bragg, are you gullible or something? It could be a trap by Gunboss to fool us."

"Screw the captain and your traps." Annoyed, Bragg broke into a run, and ran down a dune, towards where the murder of crows was gathering.

* * *

At a breakneck speed across the desert, not even caring how hot he was, or that his throat was hideously dry, Bragg ran. When he got to the crows, he hoisted his own scimitar, and waved the blade at them, yelling at the brightly-colored birds. It took a few rounds of hollering and running in circles, but eventually he managed to run most of them off.

They had been attracted to the scent of blood, most likely, and there was a bit of it, but not as much as he expected to find. Bragg shook his head, hoping that whoever it was...oh Goddess, he hadn't even killed in this war yet, so new he was. If he couldn't take seeing a corpse, how could he stand...? He stooped down to observe the body, and stared, wide-eyed, his whiskers quivering, and he felt his heart freeze.

It was a girl, twisted in a fetal position, not much older than twenty, with fair skin and her long flaxen hair in pigtails. She was dressed in a white linen shirt and skirt, and her legs were laced up in tough, utilitarian boots. There was a bronze sword also stained with crow's blood, a bottle of honey, and there was a small crystal nearby, glinting. The paleness of her coloring and clothing made the dark bloodstains stand out in relief.

But this was not the problem. Bragg was not a complete ignorant, and he had seen different types of people before on his travels, from people without tails to people without fur to differently-shaped ears and the whole gamut, but while he understood this, he knew that there was something additional about this girl lying here, something almost tangible in her aura, that separated her from the others.

While he stood there, he felt something warm, a different kind of warmth from the heat of the desert, which was rapidly cooling from the descent of the sun. His nose caught a scent of something that he almost didn't recognize—the scent of ocean air, of briny sea salt.

Bragg briefly looked at the girl, her pale face crinkled up, and she coughed a few times, and it was a reminder that there were far more pressing concerns at hand. As he bent down to try to find a pulse against the pale neck of the girl, Benito ran in, shooing away the last of the crows, while William followed shortly thereafter, whistling lowly, and tsking. "Where's Alvilda?" asked Bragg, his pink fur ruffling in annoyance. How could she be so heartless?

"She went in to get Calico," William said calmly. Calico was the doctor, and Bragg, as a pulse leapt underneath his paw, hoped that the girl would live. At Bragg's hopeful expression, William said sternly, "Alvilda went to report matters to the captain as well," and Bragg felt the pit of his stomach drop.

Benito said, "You're in huge trouble with Alvilda, Bragg. Even if Oliver was there with his unit to replace us, we didn't follow procedure and make our report."

William was scanning the horizon, then turned back towards his squad. "She's definitely not from around here," he said of the girl.

"Yeah," Benito frowned, taking note of the tailless girl. "I wonder where she's from."

"But...will she be okay? We can worry about that later." Bragg muttered. He looked her over. The crows had gotten quite a few good shots in, but they seemed mostly attracted to the bottle of honey, which was cracked and leaking.

"The wounds are relatively minor, just a few scrapes," Benito said.

"You sure?" demanded Bragg.

Benito, his eyes downcast, said, "She may not be out of the hole yet. How long has she been out here? She may have gotten sunstroke from overexposure."

The next ten minutes were spent in silence, as they did what little they could. Bragg immediately opened an umbrella to provide some shade. William looked torn, but nevertheless soaked a rag from his pack with some water from his canteen, and gingerly patted at the bare skin, dusty with sand. Benito started to loosen her clothes, rolling up her sleeves gingerly. None of them had medical experience, other than basic first aid training.

"Don't want to see _her_ naked?" commented William drily.

Benito's whisker twitched, and he said nothing.

"Coming through, coming through," boomed a woman's voice after some minutes passed, loud in the emptiness of the sand dunes. The three cats nearly leapt out of their fur as Calico burst onto the scene, marching over the hill with two other cats, and looked down at the girl curled on the ground, her whiskers tight and displeased. "Who's this?"

"A would-be victim of the crows," Alvilda replied shortly. Bragg shot her a nasty glare, but the tabby refused to back down.

"Be as it may, she's still a person, isn't she? I'm oath-bound to treat any patient."

"Strange-looking, though," murmured William, and Benito nodded silently in agreement.

"Haven't you people _ever _left this island?" snapped Bragg, annoyed. "I can easily name several different groups of people that are easily ten times more strange-looking."

"No need to lecture me about _that, _Bragg," cut in Alvilda. "I used to do a lot of traveling myself." She scratched the back of one of her ears. "The question is _now_ what are we to do with this girl?"

"Why does this matter when she's dying of heatstroke?" Bragg demanded.

"What if she's an infiltrator from Gunboss?" asked Alvilda. "You have to admit this is all rather strange, don't you think?"

Bragg snapped, "We can worry about that later! Honestly, I think the war's made you _too_ paranoid for your own good."

Alvilda returned just as fiercely, "I care about the Bloodhook, and all our friends that live in it. What if saving this girl gets us all killed? What are the chances that someone survived being out in the desert this long?"

"And if not, you'd just leave her to die?"

"I just don't want to wake up tomorrow and find Sixpack and the rest of you, throats slit!" Alvilda stopped, taking a breath. "I've seen enough of my friends die in this war."

Calico stood there, her black-spotted tail dragging through the sand. "The Captain and the general are siding with Alvilda on this one, Bragg."

"_No_!" growled Bragg. He looked back at the bleeding girl. "We can't just _leave _her here! What kind of insanity is this?"

William murmured, "I don't know. I don't think it's right to leave her here either, but...I'm concerned about the possible risks."

Benito said, "I'll side with Bragg on this one." Bragg looked at him gratefully.

Calico shrugged, "Looks like I'm the tie-breaker," and she bent down with Bragg to pick up the young woman, and slide her onto the makeshift stretcher, really a hammock, they'd untied from the infirmary.

"What are you doing?" cried out Alvilda, aghast.

"What does it look like?" threw back an impatient Bragg.

Calico added, "I can't defy my oath, in my case. If I see someone injured, I do what I can to heal them, Gunboss soldier or not."

William warned, "The military is not a place where you can easily defy orders."

"Yeah, well," Bragg said, looking straight at William and Alvilda, "Maybe you should rethink that thing about blindly following orders."

"Then _you_ can explain this to Sixpack when you get back. You've deliberately went against the chain of command," Alvilda hissed and turned on her heel, and William, after a moment's hesitation, followed.

* * *

It was not far from the Bloodhook for the girl, fortunately. They'd managed to get the girl to half-consciousness, long enough for her to get a few sips of water, get her hydrated. He noted that her eyes were also different than theirs, a chestnut brown and round, rather than slitted. She quickly slipped back to unconsciousness, not long afterward. Bragg followed, worried, helped lift her on a hammock, untied from the infirmary, Calico and Benito trailing afterward. The four of them strode in silence to back to the Gunboss as the sun set, long shadows stretching out in front of their path.

While Calico was too vital to the war, and needed to treat the wounded, she was simply slapped with a note on her permanent record and a warning. Bragg was not so lucky. The moment he stepped back onto the Bloodhook, he was arrested for mutiny.

* * *

Later that evening, while most of the crew of the Bloodhook was sleeping or standing guard, the captain took a stroll on the deck. The deck was still a bit damp from being swabbed earlier that day, and he paced, slowly and thoughtfully considering.

Alonso remained silent for several minutes, while Sixpack waited for him to speak. "Have you heard from Pinkhead? Any intelligence regarding the Gunboss?" Alonso asked, looking out over at the horizon, where a ring of clouds surrounded the moon.

"No, Captain," He stared out to the sands below, down where the ship was marooned into a sand dune. Sixpack wondered how long the anchor, which lay some hundreds of yards away, had been rendered completely useless. There _had _to have been water in this world at some point. He quickly realized the captain had started talking again, and shifted his attention from those inane thoughts.

Alonso said, "If we're going to form a counterattack any time soon, we need that intelligence. How has mining below the deck gone?"

Sixpack's tail flicked, and he sighed wearily. "We did find another vein in the quarry, sir, but it turned out to be a barren strata. I think we need to dig deeper."

"We may need to call a stalemate if this weapon shortage continues, and with the disappearance of Bullminch..." the captain looked overboard at where the night sky was beginning to pale from the emergence of the rising sun. His green eyes, luminous from the moon, darkened considerably. "Maybe even...surrender."

"Sir!" gasped Sixpack. "We've gone this long...we can't just give up now!" He clenched his fists, speaking lowly, "To talk like this, sir, is bad for moral."

"I know," Alonso laughed mirthlessly. "My own pride won't let me surrender either. But I see our troops suffering so much...and after everything the Gunboss has done to us...you're right, Sixpack. To have fought this long, only to surrender would be...I can't imagine how it would affect the Bloodhook."

Sixpack's ears flattened, and he muttered, "The girl that the day patrol found yesterday. What are we to do with her? She has yet to regain consciousness."

Alonso scratched his chin thoughtfully. "The new recruit, Bragg, went against orders to save her."

"I gave him a good slugging for defying orders," Sixpack said with a wicked grin, pounding a fist against the other palm. "He'll be right as rain in a few days, don't worry," he added hurriedly when Alonso grimaced at him. "Always thought that Bragg was too gentle for the soldier life." Frowning, he said, "As for the woman...it's a very difficult case."

Captain Alonso placed his hands in his coat, one of his white sharp teeth sticking out as he gnawed his lower lip. "Sixpack, are you familiar with the stories—" But the captain cut himself off, shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Captain?" Sixpack asked, his whisker arching.

Alonso shook his head. "A matter like this...of a foreigner of a type that we've never seen before. It's odd that it should be happening now, isn't it, when we just might have a shot at winning this?" Under his breath, Alonso trailed off, not looking at his general.

Sixpack was unsure of where he was going with this. He scratched his chin, thinking. "We need to do some reconnaissance on her before we decide anything. Suppose Matoya might know something?" He sighed wearily, even though he was the one that made the suggestion. Matoya seemed to know everything that went on in this world, and used the knowledge to her advantage. And lorded it over their heads, at that.

"If we can get the bitch to cooperate," sneered Alonso, letting out an exasperated, wry noise. "Send over William and Rachel over with a bottle of fire scotch to her lighthouse."

"Sir?"

"Yes, I know the fire scotch is precious, but I have a feeling about this one, Sixpack. A good one," Alonso stretched as the sky was starting to lighten from a dark blue, almost black to violet. "We'll confine the girl in the infirmary for the time being until we hear what Matoya thinks. Until then...in the meantime, have Sergeant Alvilda interrogate her."

"Understood," Sixpack said and saluted him. "Sir, if I may...we really _are_ low on troops. This may be just the thing to turn the tide on the war."

"Thank you for the advice," The captain scratched his chin, deep in thought. "I'll leave it to you. You are dismissed, Sixpack."

"Yes, sir."

_

* * *

Frankincense and myrrh. Red flame and gold torches, a silver suit of armor...and wooden figurines. Many, many altars to people who were worse than dead. Or were they alive after all, just beyond the reach of this plane of existence? She saw white marble and blue stone rising up from the depths of the sea, and lightning striking an island._

_"Will it be okay, Megami...will it..." A warm, gentling presence, encouraging her to go back to sleep, just a little longer._

* * *

In the infirmary, Calico and Silver were the ones to both notice the telltale signs of awakening, the twitching of a nose at the smell of sardine rations and sawdust, the flicker of an eyelash.

"Hey, the lass is awake!" The young girl squinted, only able to see whiskers and fur in her face. She sneezed as they tickled her nose.

"For the love of—Silver, give her room to breathe!" Calico roughly shoved him, and an "Ouch!" as the pair of whiskers moved from in front of her face to the side, weak sunlight coming in from a porthole to their direct right. A paw was placed on the girl's forehead, and there was the sound of water being squeezed from a rag, and then it was mopped at the girl's temple, wiping away the sweat. The girl was still a bit sweaty-looking, her eyes feverish, but much improved.

"Calico, I just want to know if she's all right. Bragg's the one that saved her, and he's up in arms and wants to know if she's—"

"Bragg can wait with the rest of you! I'm sure he has all the time in the world now to think about things."

"That ain't funny," Calico could hear the disapproving note in his voice. "Bragg really cares about our welfare, even people he's just—"

Her voice went stiff. "Well, he should know better than to piss off his commanding officer next time. Bragg never did know when to quit, especially when he should be more concerned about his _own_ personal welfare."

"He was only..."

"The road to hell, remember, Silver?" Calico's voice was rising. "The patient needs to rest now. You're. Not. Helping. Out with you!" With that, the door banged shut. The blonde by now was struggling to get out of bed, noticing that her legs were bootless, and spotted her long laced boots next to the bed. Calico, in pale green scrubs, looked up and cried out, "Oh no, you don't!" She ran towards the hammock, just as the weak girl stuck out a bare white leg from under the blankets. "You've had a fever and you need rest!"

The patient murmured blearily, "'M fine. Just need to—find the arks..." as she struggled to get up again, but just as the hammock was about to flip her out, Calico caught her, the blanket fluttering to the floor.

The cat sighed, looking ruefully around the immaculate infirmary. "I told that idiot Alonso we need some _real _beds for the infirmary, not these cheap hammocks. Are you all right, girl?"

The girl could feel a droplet of sweat slide down her hot back. It was terribly warm now, especially since it was noon. "Need to—go back out there."

Calico shook her head, whiskers quivering. Perish the thought. "No, what you_ need_ is bed rest." The hammock settled again, and the cat shook her head ruefully again. "What's your name, girl?"

"'M Ferris. I'm traveling to find—"

"Be quiet," The cat said in gentler tones. "I'm the doctor here, Ferris. My name is Calico. One of our soldiers, Bragg found you in the desert." Calico placed her gently back into the hammock and held it steady, so Ferris could place her legs back in again, and Calico threw the light blanket over her. Ferris noticed that she had been redressed in a white smock, light enough so her skin could breathe. "At least you looked like you were dressed appropriately while you were out there," Calico muttered. "Light armor, a weapon to defend yourself, not enough healing potions, though..." She steepled her fingers to her chin thoughtfully. "We can talk later. Get some sleep."

"I...argued..."

A feline eyebrow arched. "You were talking in your sleep. Don't worry about it. Rest now."

Ferris turned a little, murmuring. "Need to...apologize..."

"Just get some sleep." Calico looked over Ferris, and shook her head. The girl had healed remarkably fast from heatstroke in less than a day, and with her fair coloring...she hadn't burned at all. Strange.

It had been true that this Ferris had been muttering in her sleep, but they were senseless words, of fire and crystal and...endless waters? They were in a _desert_, for Goddess' sake. Ferris was a long way from home, that was for sure. She looked back at the careworn girl, tossing in her sleep on the hammock. Calico knew it was best to let her sleep it off, but it was difficult. Sighing, she got up, knowing she had to help Silver change Tom's dressing. She left Ferris to dream.

_

* * *

_

Sleep, Ferris, and do not worry. All is well.

* * *

Undecided as to whether I'll post more on FF. net. We shall see. Meanwhile, I have to update this story on my LJ. Oops...


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